


Kinktober 2020

by Kaatyr



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Audio Format: MP3, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Podfic Available, dark content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 20,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatyr/pseuds/Kaatyr
Summary: A collection of one shots for Kinktober 2020 (though I'll be working off my own list, not the official list). These will all be Alternate Universe and focused on the Chrollo/Kurapika pairing.
Relationships: Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Kurapika
Kudos: 224
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	1. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

**Author's Note:**

> This story is available in audio form for those who would prefer to listen rather than read. Please note that this is a text to speech recording, which means that there may be some issues with it.
> 
> [Stream or download MP3s from Google Drive](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/17Jx96O43GYzfpctTPptDfp9zPY4nYRYY?usp=sharing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Dirty Talk

The android’s eyes bothered Chrollo. They were too blank and expressionless. No matter what horrors Chrollo subjected the thing to, those scarlet-coloured gems never changed.

Even the colour wasn’t quite right. It didn’t match the beautiful hue that Chrollo still saw in his dreams.

“I’ve missed you so much, sir. I’ve been thinking about you all day…”

Chrollo ran his hands along the smooth pale ‘skin’ stretched over the android’s metal skeleton. It felt warm, but wrong. Chrollo missed the small quivers he remembered. All the little blemishes and imperfections that no one else would have noticed unless they were as attentive as Chrollo had been.

“I want to feel you inside me…” Artificial eyes stared unwaveringly at Chrollo, as if he were the only person in the world. Chrollo recalled another voice. One that had whispered dirty things to him too, with tears rolling down swollen cheeks from eyes so wide and desperate.

The proportions were right, at least. The cheeks of its backside fit comfortably into Chrollo’s palms. The face had the same young, pretty features and the blond hair fell in just the right way. Even the voice had the right tone, though it somewhat lacked in genuine emotion.

The android pressed itself against Chrollo, murmuring, “Kiss me,” into his shirt. Chrollo obliged, his lips meeting the android’s. He squeezed the android tightly against him, his eyes closed as he imagined holding another body—a warm, living body whose veins pumped with blood instead of coolant fluid and whose eyes had shed such lovely tears.

That body was no more now, and this artificial thing was the best Chrollo could do as a replacement. But a robot could never replace a human life. Never feel as real as a human.


	2. Circus of the Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Pet Play

_Crack!_

A sharp, short cry followed the loud sound. The teenager kneeling on the dirt floor of the ring flinched and shook, even though Chrollo’s whip hadn’t actually hit him.

“I said, get up there!”

Chrollo pointed to the pedestal. Nervous grey eyes turned to stare at it. Chrollo waited, whip held ready in his hand. He was wearing his full ringmaster costume, though this wasn’t a show. He thought it gave him an air of authority that casual clothes couldn’t emulate.

The blond teenager crawled over to the pedestal and climbed up on it. He knelt, legs folded beneath him and hands resting on his knees. Chrollo was pleasantly surprised. The teenager was a fast learner.

Chrollo walked over and patted his soft blond hair. “Good boy, Kurapika,” he said.

Kurapika didn’t respond verbally, but he did arch into Chrollo’s touch as Chrollo moved his hand from Kurapika’s hair and down past the leather collar around his neck to caress his bare back. Chrollo’s fingers teased the spot where the blond’s asshole gripped the long, furry, golden length of his new tail.

Kurapika’s eyes glittered with a heat that Chrollo felt beneath his own skin. This little acrobat was going to make a fine new pet for the ringmaster.


	3. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Master/Slave

Chrollo strode confidently through the opulent halls of the castle, ignoring the servants he passed even as they gave him nervous looks and edged out of his path.

Chrollo pushed open the heavy oak door of the prince’s chambers and strode in as if he owned the place. He threw his coat over the back of a sofa and plucked a grape from a platter on a table before sprawling out on the sofa. He popped the grape into his mouth and bit down, savouring the sweetness. Almost as an afterthought, he plucked another from the plate and pressed it not to his own lips, but another’s.

Plush, rose petal-soft lips parted to receive the treat. Beneath a heavy collar of metal, the muscles of a tender, bruised throat worked as the grape was swallowed.

“Thank you, master.”

The voice was soft, so low that, if the sitting room weren’t entirely silent, Chrollo would have missed it. Chrollo ignored the gratitude and helped himself to another grape, ignoring the naked figure kneeling next to his foot.

That figure was the prince who had been born in this castle, and had spent his entire life shut up behind these walls, trapped by a witch’s curse. Trapped by both the walls and the beastly form the witch had bestowed on him.

Breaking the curse hadn’t been all that hard. Fuck that ‘love’ bullshit the witch had made part of the curse. All the prince had needed to break the curse was for someone to put him in his proper place, which Chrollo had done all too easily.

The curse was broken and the prince’s body restored to his true appearance. He was every bit as beautiful as the rumours had claimed.

Now his kingdom belonged to Chrollo, and the prince spent his days kneeling in chains at Chrollo’s feet, and his nights pleasuring his new master.

It was certainly a fairy tale ending for Chrollo.


	4. Kiss of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Blood Play

Chrollo rarely chose to share his gift of immortal life with anyone, but something about the cute blond man with the stormy grey eyes and sharp tongue really appealed to him. Letting that little flower wilt and die would be a disservice to the world.

Kurapika was comfortably situated on Chrollo’s lap, his delicate wrist held in one of Chrollo’s hands. Blood dripped down the pale skin of his arm. Chrollo watched it, fascinated. He was sated for the moment, and in no hurry to continue.

Kurapika, likewise, was in no hurry. He was dozing, his head resting on Chrollo’s shoulder. If it weren’t for the slow pulsing of blood in his veins, Chrollo might have assumed he was dead.

But Chrollo was hardly a newbie at this. He wasn’t going to fuck it up by actually killing Kurapika.

Chrollo slowly licked up the trail of blood, savouring the sweet taste. Kurapika was one of the most delicious he’d had in a long time.

Chrollo set Kurapika’s wrist gently down on his lap and waited, senses tuned to the slowing beat of Kurapika’s heart. When he was sure it was time, Chrollo brought his own wrist to his lips.

The pain of his fangs piercing his own skin was sharp and deep. Even that didn’t bother Chrollo, as he rarely felt pain these days. It was a novel sensation now and should be savoured as much as pleasure.

Pleasure was something that Chrollo had found in Kurapika’s body many, many times. In fact, his erection was currently pressing against Kurapika, but Chrollo ignored it. It wasn’t the right time.

Chrollo’s own blood didn’t have the same sweet flavour as Kurapika’s—which was fine since he wasn’t intending on drinking it anyway.

Chrollo pressed his dripping wrist to Kurapika’s lips, smearing the blood over them. It took a little while for Kurapika to get a good taste of it, but Chrollo was gently insistent. When he felt Kurapika begin to lick up the blood in earnest, he knew that the transformation was inevitable.

Kurapika woke hours later, groggy and confused, with his sire’s bloody lips on his own.


	5. Taking Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Toys

Chrollo had to admit that the blond male currently tied to his bed was the most gorgeous assassin that Light Nostrade had sent after him so far. That fact was the only reason that the blond was still alive.

“I’m going to kill you,” the blond spat hatefully at him as Chrollo tightened the last strap. Chrollo patted his bare backside condescendingly as he glanced over at the three knives and gun laid out on the dresser, items he’d earlier removed from the assassin’s person. The blond had certainly come with the intention of killing him.

But Chrollo wasn’t so easy to kill, as Nostrade’s other hired assassins had discovered before their bloody demises.

“You had your chance,” Chrollo told his captive as he removed his own gun from the waistband of his slacks, where he’d put it once he’d had the blond in a compromised position—a position that caused a pleasurable heat to grow inside him.

“You won’t get away with this,” the blond stated, his voice barely wavering. Chrollo had to give him points for managing to stay composed, despite his situation.

The blond was secured by sturdy leather straps. He was on his stomach and his head lay on the side on a pillow Chrollo had placed there. His backside was exposed and his legs held open by a metal bar. His hands were attached to his ankle cuffs.

Chrollo didn’t bother responding to the blond’s threat as he was more interested in picking out which toy he should try first. He’d start with something easy, like the vibrator, he decided. He felt like taking his time with this one. He was curious to see if he could get his captive to beg for his cock before Chrollo killed him.

Not that he’d ever be getting Chrollo’s cock. Chrollo had no interest in actually fucking the man. What really got him off was watching his captives fall apart as Chrollo played with their bodies. Watching them drool and come all over his sheets while he pushed their limits with his favourite toys.

Chrollo selected a small, egg-shaped vibrator and returned to his glaring captive. He soaked it in a generous amount of lube before pressing it to the small of the man’s back. The blond let out a small yelp as the cold lube stung his skin.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” the blond demanded, trying to twist his neck around to better see what Chrollo held there.

“Maybe you want a taste first?” Chrollo hummed as he rubbed the vibrator along the soft skin.

“I’ll kill you!” The blond’s voice carried a new, raw quality that Chrollo definitely liked. He turned the vibrator to its lowest setting, smiling to himself as the blond began to struggle in earnest, futilely trying to get away from the touch of the vibrator.

Soon he wouldn’t want to get away from it. Once it was inside him, Chrollo would make sure that all he wanted was more.

Chrollo had a rather nice collection of toys he hadn’t yet gotten the chance to try. The blond would definitely be getting a lot more before Chrollo eventually put him out of his ruined mind.


	6. Sweet Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Food Kink

Chrollo’s gang believed unanimously that he had a sweet tooth. Chrollo could hardly deny it, as he had no better excuse for why he always returned from his morning walk with a paper bag of cream buns.

The best time was early, right when the bakery opened and before the morning rush. The bakery was a small shop situated on a narrow street that was home to other small speciality shops and cafes. Chrollo pushed the door open and entered. He glanced around the space, his mood lifting as he noticed the short, blond man stocking one of the display cases pause to glance at him. Pale cheeks turned red as the man straightened.

Chrollo knew that because of his tattoos and affiliation with a well-known gang,he didn’t fit at all in this homely, comfortable space. Yet he’d never been turned away by the young man, who seemed to be the only person staffing the bakery.

Seeing that no one else was in the shop, Chrollo turned briefly to flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED, then to lock the door, just in case the sign wasn’t enough of a deterrent.

He turned back to the blond man with a smile. “Good morning,” he said.

The tongue-tied man finally responded. “Uh, good morning, sir.” He seemed to regain some of his composure as he met Chrollo’s eyes. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

He turned to finish stacking the display case. Chrollo waited patiently, happy to enjoy the view. When the blond was finished, he turned back to Chrollo.

“What can I get for you?” he asked.

Chrollo smiled broadly. “My regular,” he said.

The baker snorted. “I don’t know why I bothered asking,” he said. “Of course it’s the… ‘regular’.”

Chrollo smirked, pleased to see that the baker’s true attitude was showing just a little. It was part of what appealed to him about the young man. Mostly, it was the baker’s delectable body he wanted, though. His prickly attitude was just the icing on the cake.

But Chrollo really did like icing. He especially liked licking it off the baker’s smooth skin.

“Come on, then.”

The blond looked put-upon as he moved behind the counter and to the door leading to the kitchen. Chrollo followed his invitation into the warm, sweet-scented and cramped space. Despite the baker’s air of irritation, Chrollo noticed the subtle shift in his posture and the way he walked. If that didn’t make it clear that the baker wasn’t half as annoyed as he pretended to be, the half-lidded stare he directed briefly over his shoulder at Chrollo as he pushed through the door to the kitchen did the job.

Chrollo definitely would never recommend the bakery to any of his gang members. He wanted to keep his delicious find all to himself.


	7. Cursed Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Tentacles

Kurapika really didn’t want to visit the small cabin in the woods. He would have taken any sort of alternative, if one existed. None did, however, and Kurapika had resigned himself to making the trip through dark, menacing shadows to the isolated wooden structure.

Kurapika hovered at the door for almost a minute as he hesitated. He told himself that he wasn’t scared. He was just going over his plan again, checking for flaws.

He was fooling himself, though. He didn’t have much of a plan at all.

Finally, Kurapika knocked sharply on the wood. The door was sturdier than he’d expected, and there was barely a sound.

“Hello?” Kurapika called out. “Hello?”

He waited for a response. After a few seconds, the door creaked open. The sight that met Kurapika’s eyes caused some of his apprehension to ease. The person who had opened the door had a normal, very human face—a very nice looking human face.

Kurapika had been fully expecting to see a monstrous visage. He’d prepared himself mentally for the sight. Now he felt like someone had yanked the rug out from under his feet, causing him to fall on his ass and look like a fool.

The rumours had to be untrue, then. Maybe this person was just an eccentric who disliked being around other people.

“Are you lost?”

The voice was masculine and cold.

“No, I’m not lost,” Kurapika said. “I came to ask for your help.”

“My help?” The man’s lips curled as if he thought Kurapika was joking.

“Yes. I’ve heard that you grow medicinal herbs that can’t be found anywhere else,” Kurapika said. He shuffled his feet, feeling ridiculous about having to explain everything on the man’s doorstep. It was kind of rude for the man to not have invited him inside. “My friend is sick,” Kurapika continued. “It’s the coughing sickness, the one that comes every winter. My friend isn’t getting any better. I was hoping that you could make something that will help him.”

The door slid open a little wider, allowing Kurapika to see more of the man on the other side of it. He had short black hair and a pale face. Unusually, he wore a black belted robe, rather than the more practical pants and shirts Kurapika was used to seeing people wear.

“I could make some medicine for your friend that would very likely help him,” the man said. “But I don’t see why I should give you anything for free. If I did that, none of you would ever leave me alone.”

Kurapika looked down at his feet. “I don’t have any money,” he admitted.

“What good would money do me anyway?”

Kurapika was finally allowed entrance into the cabin. The room beyond the door was surprisingly comfortable. Kurapika had to admit that it really didn’t look as if his host needed money. But, if not money, then what else could he offer?

Kurapika was directed to sit on a sofa and presented with a cup of something cool and refreshing. Kurapika couldn’t identify it, but he suspected that there was a small amount of alcohol in it. He hoped that it was only a small amount anyway.

“What have you heard about me?” the man asked as he took a seat on an armchair across from Kurapika.

Kurapika decided to be honest, even if what he had to say wasn’t flattering. “I heard that you were caught stealing from a witch and she cursed you,” Kurapika said. “The villagers cast you out because of the curse. They say the curse turned you into a monster.”

The man laughed, unsurprised by the information. Kurapika let out a breath of relief.

“Is it true?” he asked boldly. “You look normal to me.”

“It’s true enough,” the man said. “I was cursed by a witch, though I feel that the villagers did overreact.” For a brief moment, hate manifested itself on the handsome face, a hate so heartfelt that it sent a shiver up Kurapika’s spine.

“But you don’t look like a monster,” Kurapika said, hoping to soften the mood. Didn’t this man have the right to feel bitter towards the villagers? Expelling him from the village did seem unfair.

“That’s a matter of opinion, I suppose,” the man said, his face softening as he smiled, as if appreciating some joke that Kurapika hadn’t caught. “You might feel differently soon.”

It turned out that the man, who eventually introduced himself as Chrollo, did have something in mind for Kurapika’s payment, and Kurapika was conflicted. On the one hand, it seemed like an easy trade. He wouldn’t really be giving anything up at all, honestly.

Chrollo wanted to have sex with him. That was it. He told Kurapika that he hadn’t been with anyone for a long time, and he wanted to feel the pleasure of a warm body again.

But when Chrollo revealed what he was hiding underneath his black robe, Kurapika felt repulsed.

The witch certainly had cursed him, and ‘monstrous’ was the only word Kurapika could think of when he saw the mass of thick, wriggling tentacles where Chrollo’s genitalia should have been.

“Touch one,” Chrollo urged him.

Kurapika shivered as he reached out one hand to touch a tentacle that lifted itself like a snake to meet his fingers, something wet oozing from the tip to drip onto Kurapika’s skin.

He’d agreed to the deal already. He couldn’t back out.

Kurapika trailed his fingers curiously down the length, surprised at how coarse it felt. His fingers found the shallow ridges that his eyes couldn’t see.

Kurapika raised his eyes from the tentacle to see Chrollo’s face. He swallowed as he saw the look of rapt anticipation and desire there.

Kurapika felt his own anticipation coil tight and hot deep inside him as the tentacle curled around his hand. He’d actually never had sex before, but he’d heard about it from his friends. Now he’d finally get to experience it in a rather unusual way.


	8. Ghost Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Teasing

Kurapika shivered as he dropped his shirt into the laundry basket. He felt strongly as if someone was staring at him, but he was completely alone in the small bathroom.

He’d only recently moved in to the dilapidated apartment building near his university. He hadn’t wanted to stay on campus and he definitely hadn’t wanted to get a roommate, so his options had been very limited. The building was old and in danger of being toppled by a strong breeze, but it was within walking distance of the university and Kurapika was pleased to have found it.

But ever since he’d arrived, he’d been jumping at every little noise. The creak of a floorboard, the brush of leaves against a window, even the rustle of fabric as a discarded shirt slid off the back of the chair where he’d thrown it. The apartment had an atmosphere that set Kurapika on edge. He’d never admit it to anyone, though. His friends would just think that he was a child who couldn’t handle living on his own. They were sure to make fun of him.

Kurapika finished undressing, determined to ignore the feeling prickling up his spine. He turned the shower on, cold water pouring down to soak his hand before he got it clear. Kurapika waited impatiently for the water to warm up, knowing that it would take longer than he was used to.

As he waited, he felt something brush his back. He turned, but as he’d expected, the bathroom was the same as ever. No one was behind him. Kurapika shook off his nerves and told himself to get a grip. He stuck his hand under the spray again to gauge the temperature and sighed. Still ice-cold, damn it.

Then Kurapika felt pressure in a place that really was uncomfortable. He yelped and looked down. The pressure was still there, wrapped around his cock like a glove, but Kurapika could see nothing wrong.

Kurapika wrapped his own hand around his cock, but that only made it feel worse… or better, depending on your point of view. Kurapika was firmly in the ‘worse’ camp. In an effort to ease the sensation, he stepped beneath the still-cold spray of the shower.

That drove the sensation away and Kurapika slowly relaxed as the water finally warmed. It must have been his imagination. It had to be. His nerves were finally getting the better of him.

But, as Kurapika was brushing his hair in front of the mirror, he realised that there was something on the lower corner. Someone had drawn a crude image of a heart using what Kurapika suspected was his own lipstick—at least Kurapika hoped that it was his lipstick.

No one had been here. There was definitely no one else here. Kurapika was certain of that. All the doors were squeaky. The floorboards creaked loudly no matter how soft-footed he was. He would have seen or heard anyone coming into the bathroom.

The brush Kurapika had set down on the vanity began to rise into the air on its own. Kurapika froze, watching with a strange mix of fear and fascination as the brush moved in the glass surface of the mirror. He couldn’t turn to follow its progress because he was too deep in shock.

The brush slapped firmly against his backside. Kurapika let out an undignified yelp, startled out of his shock as fury swept in to replace it. He turned—but there was no one there to direct his anger at. The brush dropped to the tiles, causing Kurapika to step back, his back pressing against the edge of the vanity.

Kurapika could only come up with one explanation for what had just happened—and it sounded insane.

His apartment was haunted… by a ghost who seemed to have some sort of sexual interest in him, or at least liked taunting him.

Maybe living with a roommate would have been a preferable option, Kurapika thought morosely as he added ‘apartment-hunting’ to his mental list of chores. He could not live with this.


	9. Pirate's Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Sensory Deprivation

Chrollo hefted up the heavy lid of the well-crafted wooden box he liked to call his treasure chest. Unlike the rest of the pirates on the ship, he didn’t keep gold or jewels in there—but what he did keep in there was just as precious to him.

The naked form curled inside the box was blindfolded, his hands and ankles tied together. The blindfold was a permanent accessory, as Chrollo had found that it kept the boy disorientated and dependant on him, a state which suited Chrollo’s needs perfectly.

Chrollo had also gagged him in the beginning, but that hadn’t been necessary for weeks now. The young man barely made a sound. He must have realised that there was no point. No one on this ship would help him.

Chrollo had come across him on a merchant ship they had raided a few months ago. At first he’d considered throwing the boy overboard and letting him drown with the rest of the people on the ship, but something about the fiery spark in the boy’s eyes had caught his interest. Chrollo had taken him prisoner instead. He didn’t regret the decision. Being a pirate captain and spending long months at sea was lonely. Chrollo liked his crew a lot, might even consider some of them his friends, but he didn’t trust any of them enough to sleep in the same bed with them.

This boy, however, lived with the shadow of death constantly wrapped around his throat. Chrollo restricted his diet and kept him in the dim cabin, not allowing him to feel the warmth of the sun—the only warmth he knew was the heat of Chrollo’s body. The boy was skinny, pale and weak, much too weak to free himself from his slavery.

Chrollo dragged the boy out of the box. His blond hair had grown out of its short cut. Now it curled down the boy’s back, giving him a more feminine appearance. Chrollo hadn’t decided whether he wanted to cut it or not. It provided him with a good leash to yank the boy around on when he got defiant, but it also often got matted and tangled.

Chrollo threw the boy callously onto the rug, smiling as the boy gasped in pain. His body was streaked with marks and bruises. He curled up tight, shivering. The ropes that still bound his wrists and ankles had rubbed painfully into his skin, leaving traces of blood from his struggles.

Chrollo leaned over him, rubbing his erection against the boy’s hip. The boy’s only reaction was to whimper. He was too weak to provide much active resistance anymore. Chrollo stroked his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. The boy’s shivering grew into shudders. Chrollo licked his ear, smirking as the boy tried to bury his face in the rug—the same expensive rug that still bore the stains of the boy’s own blood. Not that the little treasure had ever seen those stains. Chrollo planned to keep him in darkness, right up until he finally tired of the boy and sent him to join the rest of his family in the dark, cold depths of the ocean.


	10. Magic Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Punishment

Furious, stormy eyes glared at Kurapika as he observed the bound figure. The pentagram marked on the floor beneath their feet was likely unnecessary, but Kurapika had decided to err on the side of caution. He had a lot of confidence in his untried but well-developed magical ability, but Master Lucilfer was one of the best magicians in the world—if he weren’t, then Kurapika would never have apprenticed with him.

Kurapika’s silver chains, conjured by Kurapika’s will and formed of magic, bound his master tightly, preventing him from moving, and even speaking. Master Lucilfer knew many spells that only required verbal incantations, and Kurapika had no intention of falling victim to any of them.

Kurapika had worked diligently, practicing and honing his magic skills, both under his master’s tutelage and on his own in private. He’d kept his rapid progress hidden from his master, waiting all the time for this opportunity to come—the time when he finally became strong enough to stand level with Master Lucilfer—and, perhaps even surpass him.

Kurapika gripped the handle of the cat’s tail whip, his heartbeat picking up in anticipation. Master Lucilfer’s eyes fixed on it as sweat began to bead on his skin. He didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to know what Kurapika had planned. Anyone who knew their history didn’t even need to guess.

Kurapika had felt the sting of those tails many times in the flesh of his own bare back when his master felt that he’d misbehaved and needed to be punished. Kurapika relished the chance to turn the tables.

Unbeknownst to Kurapika, his master felt more than apprehension or fear at the sight of his apprentice’s prideful face. Lucilfer had taught his student everything he knew, so how could he not be proud to see his student’s unexpected growth?


	11. Highway to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Praise Kink

Kurapika leaned against his car and wiped sweat from his face. The long, deserted road stretched out before him, a black, twisting, endless ribbon.

Kurapika chastised himself for not sticking to the main roads. He’d wanted a bit of adventure, but he was getting more than he’d expected.

After wishfully checking his mobile phone (no signal, of course) Kurapika resigned himself to what could potentially be a long wait. He had some snacks and water, which was fortunate, since he was likely to be waiting a long time.

Two hours passed beneath the hot sun before another car pulled up behind Kurapika’s. A well-dressed, black-haired man got out and approached Kurapika with a slightly amused smile.

“Car trouble?” he asked.

Kurapika nodded glumly. “Looks like it,” he said.

The man studied the car thoughtfully. “That’s bad luck,” he said. “May I take a look under the hood?”

Kurapika nodded again. “Be my guest,” he said. “I don’t know anything about fixing cars.”

After giving the mechanics under the car’s hood an inspection, the man straightened and shook his head. “Sorry, but I can’t see anything wrong,” he said.

Kurapika sighed, disappointed.

“How about I give you a ride into town?” the stranger offered.

Kurapika gladly accepted. He gathered his essential belongings and put them in the trunk of the man’s car. After he’d settled into the passenger seat, his rescuer introduced himself as Chrollo Lucilfer.

Kurapika felt a little ashamed as he explained to Chrollo that he was a university student using the brief break between semesters to get away from the town. It was a story that made him look like a young, foolish boy who hadn’t planned his trip properly.

When they got to the next town, Kurapika made the unpleasant discovery that all of the businesses were closed for a local holiday. There was no way he could get anything done about his car today. Luckily, Chrollo came to his rescue once again, offering to let Kurapika spend the night at his house with a knowing smile.

It only occurred to Kurapika later, as he lay tangled in Chrollo’s sheets, that Chrollo must have known that all of the businesses would be shut, and hadn’t seen fit to warn him in advance. Kurapika couldn’t decide if he was flattered or annoyed. Could he be both?

“Don’t scowl like that. You’re prettier when you smile,” Chrollo scolded him. He straddled Kurapika, running his hands over Kurapika’s bare chest.

Kurapika tried to smile, but Chrollo shook his head and put his hand lightly over Kurapika’s mouth. Kurapika licked the palm, bringing a smile to Chrollo’s own face.

“I think I’d rather have your tongue on my dick rather than my hand,” he said.

Kurapika obliged, even though sucking cock wasn’t his favourite activity. He knew he was good at it, though. His previous partners had told him as much. Chrollo seemed to agree.

“Oh, that feels good, do that again,” Chrollo demanded breathlessly as he watched Kurapika lift his wet mouth from the head of Chrollo’s cock, his fingers firmly pumping the length.

Kurapika smirked, eyes glittering as he noticed how strung-out Chrollo looked.

“This?” he asked, before going down on Chrollo’s cock again.

“Fuck, yes!” Soft curses followed as Kurapika did his best to drive Chrollo insane. He wanted to make him come, but not too quickly. Kurapika was curious to see how long he could keep Chrollo on the edge.

“You’re so good at this,” Chrollo groaned.

Kurapika took him in deeper, pride swelling in his chest. He really, really liked to hear that. He preferred being lavished with praise rather than insults. Unfortunately, some of his previous partners had called him arrogant when he’d tried to explain that, so Kurapika didn’t bother even trying anymore.

But Chrollo seemed to realise the effect his words had on Kurapika, and kept up a string of pleased murmurs, encouraging Kurapika to go deeper.

Kurapika wondered if he needed to reevaluate his view on cock sucking as Chrollo spilled across his face.

“Beautiful,” Chrollo pronounced.

Kurapika had just been considering how to politely extricate himself so that he could clean his face, but hearing that pronouncement brought him up short. Chrollo stared down at him with shining grey eyes, one hand gently petting Kurapika’s hair as he smiled blissfully.


	12. Dinner For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Formal Wear

Going on a holiday alone, without anyone to share the experience with, was depressing. The beach was pristine, the locals were very friendly and welcoming, the resort was five star in every way, but none of that could make up for the loneliness Chrollo felt.

He’d had no reservations about travelling alone as he’d been planning the trip. A week away from his work and busy city life had seemed like a great idea. Being alone had never bothered him before—but now, without work to keep him busy, he found himself wanting companionship.

He could have simply socialised with the other holiday makers at the resort, but Chrollo felt quite uncomfortable as most were either couples or parents with children running underfoot.

Despite his dissatisfaction with the situation, Chrollo was determined to make the best of it and not waste the week. He’d heard great things about the seaside restaurant and planned to try it—even if that meant dining alone.

Upon entering the restaurant, dressed in a black suit suitable for the fancy dining establishment, Chrollo was greeted by a woman with a friendly smile and a tablet in hand.

After confirming that he was eating alone, he was shown to a table on the deck, overlooking the dark ocean below.

“Your server for the evening will be here in just a moment. I hope you enjoy your meal, sir.”

With those words, the woman left. Chrollo looked around himself. He’d been seated at a table meant for two near one end of the deck. Only two other tables were occupied, both located up the other end, affording Chrollo some privacy of a sort. Chrollo was glad that the other diners hadn’t noticed him. They would surely stare, and wonder why he was alone.

Light danced off the lapping ocean waves, creating a shimmering show that held Chrollo’s attention, until a voice interrupted.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Chrollo turned at the polite summons, to see a young man wearing a server’s uniform standing beside the table. His expression was not quite what Chrollo would have called friendly. It was a little too impersonal and businesslike for that.

“My name is Kurapika and I will be your server this evening. May I take your drink order?”

A menu had been set down before Chrollo while he’d been distracted by the glittering ocean. Chrollo glanced down at it before smiling at the server. He was such a pretty young man, with his straight blond hair and delicate face. He wore a black vest over a white button-up shirt with a black bow-tie. Exactly what Chrollo would expect from such an expensive restaurant.

What Chrollo hadn’t expected was for Kurapika to be so considerate and accomodating. Kurapika offered him reading material to keep him occupied while he waited for his first course. He suggested dishes that Chrollo might like to try. He answered all of Chrollo’s questions without any sign of impatience or irritation. He even consulted the chef on a few occasions when Chrollo posed a question that he couldn’t answer.

The evening satisfied more than just Chrollo’s stomach. By the end of it, he felt as if his loneliness had abated as well.

Chrollo made sure to compliment Kurapika on his thoughtfulness and thank him with a genuine smile that his employees rarely ever saw. Kurapika blushed red at the praise, suddenly awkward and embarrassed. Chrollo was thoroughly charmed. Along with a large tip, he left his phone number on the table before bidding the restaurant a final goodbye.

Much to Chrollo’s delight, Kurapika did call him the next day to invite him back to the restaurant. This time, he found himself sitting across from Kurapika in a private room, with the blond’s undivided and devoted attention. It turned out that Kurapika’s family owned the restaurant and, as such, were very much willing to indulge their son and his date for the evening.

Kurapika’s outfit was much the same as the evening before, right down to the bow-tie. He moved naturally in the fitted clothes, as if they were a second skin. Nonetheless, Chrollo had a strong desire to explore the uncharted territory underneath them—a privilege that Kurapika granted him that evening.

It wasn’t until two days later that Chrollo learned from another employee of the restaurant that Chrollo was hardly Kurapika’s first conquest. In fact, he’d gotten himself into some hot water a few times, as he’d had affairs with married men who had dined at the restaurant.

Chrollo personally didn’t care about Kurapika’s promiscuity as he would be leaving soon anyway. As far as he was concerned, Kurapika was a fun diversion from his loneliness. He did not expect monogamy. Yet, that same detachment that allowed him to shrug off Kurapika’s promiscuity also allowed him to indulge his curiosity.

His timing wasn’t entirely appropriate. Kurapika was quite busy, ass bouncing on Chrollo’s cock while Chrollo enjoyed the view. Though Kurapika was still clearly enjoying the experience, his irritation with Chrollo’s line of questioning was showing in the curl of his lips.

“What do you find so irresistible about all those men?” Chrollo asked. “Why do you fuck them when it obviously causes conflict with your colleagues and family? Don’t you care about your reputation?”

“Do you really want to know? Now?” Kurapika’s pace slowed, his heat feeling like a warm, velvet glove around Chrollo.

“Yes,” Chrollo said. He wished that his phone was within reach so he could take a photo. Kurapika’s hair was ruffled and his lips were swollen. His cheeks were pink blossoms. Chrollo would have liked to preserve the image. It was a dream made flesh.

“When I see them in their nice suits and ties, it gets me hard,” Kurapika admitted. He glared at Chrollo, as if daring him to say anything disparaging, but Chrollo held his tongue. He had plans to use said tongue later to pleasure that hard dick that was currently standing up proudly, as if daring Chrollo to touch it.

“Do you think that makes me a slut?” Kurapika inquired. “That I’m so cheap I’ll jump into bed with any man as long as he’s dressed right?”

Bitterness laced Kurapika’s voice and Chrollo, sensing danger, reached out to grab Kurapika’s wrists to hold him in place.

“Is that what other people are saying about you?” he guessed. Kurapika’s wrists jerked in his hold, but Chrollo held firm. “My cock is up your ass, so who am I to judge?”

Kurapika’s bitterness evaporated into a smile, as if he’d actually forgotten that fact and needed the reminder.

“Now, can we agree that being a slut, cheap or otherwise, isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and can we get on with the fucking now?”

“You’re the one asking questions,” Kurapika pointed out with a smirk.

“Then maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth,” Chrollo taunted.

Kurapika obliged, leaning forward to kiss Chrollo. With his curiosity sated, Chrollo moved on to sating other desires.


	13. V is For Villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Silencing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to a chapter from the [AUgust Writing Challenge collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681582/chapters/62656552), though this should still make sense even if you haven't read that one.

Kurapika couldn’t remember exactly how he’d ended up in his current situation. The only thing he could be sure about was that it had to have been Leorio’s fault. There was no way Kurapika would have stuffed things up so badly.

Leorio lay on the concrete floor of the warehouse, his body contorted into an unnatural shape as he endured horrible pain. Above him stood Kurapika’s enemy, the villain known only as the Spider.

His features were surprisingly normal—even handsome, if Kurapika were being honest. He wasn’t charitable enough to be that honest, however. Kurapika preferred to focus his thoughts on the villain’s clothes, which were eccentric. He wore tight black pants and a jacket open to reveal his muscular chest. A black mask covered part of the top half of his face. A cross-shaped tattoo visible through a hole in the mask inevitably drew Kurapika’s stare, though Kurapika tried to resist the urge. It would be dangerous to fixate on one feature and ignore the rest. He could easily miss some sort of sleight-of-hand that might well spell Leorio’s immediate death.

But if Kurapika didn’t act quickly, Leorio would die. The Spider’s poison coursed through Leorio’s veins, burning as it went. Leorio had finally stopped screaming less than a minute ago, though it hadn’t been because the pain had lessened. Rather, it had been because his voice had finally given out on him.

“What do you want?” Kurapika asked the Spider, his chest feeling as if someone were sitting on it. He heard a grunt from Leorio, but chose to ignore it. If only Leorio hadn’t followed him tonight, discovered his secret identity... Kurapika would have a lot of explaining to do if they both survived this.

“I don’t want to fight you,” the Spider said.

Kurapika’s fingers curled into a fist. His chains dug into his flesh, cold and hard.

“Then why did you poison my friend?” Kurapika demanded.

“He was... inconvenient,” the Spider responded. “So are you, for that matter.”

Kurapika felt the urge to laugh as the Spider’s lips turned upward slightly at the corners. There was a lot of inconvenience going around tonight for everyone.

“Why are you here, Scarlet Chain?”

Kurapika risked a fleeting glance down at the ground to check Leorio’s condition. He’d rolled onto his back, arms tight around himself. His eyes were pinched closed and his face was ashen.

They did not have time for chit-chat, but Kurapika felt that he had no choice but to answer the Spider’s questions. Maybe that might get both of them out of this alive.

“I was looking for something,” Kurapika said vaguely. Something that seemed not to be in the warehouse currently. His intel must have been wrong. The object he was looking for must have already been shipped, since the warehouse was now dark and deserted.

The Spider tilted his head encouragingly, but Kurapika pressed his lips together behind the red cloth hiding his mouth, choosing to keep his secret. He and the Spider were both considered villains by the rest of the world, but that didn’t make them allies. The Spider relished causing chaos, and Kurapika had no desire to become a pawn in his games. Kurapika had a particular goal to complete, a plan to execute. The Spider’s interference would only hinder him.

“Fine, then. I don’t really care, anyway,” the Spider said, though Kurapika suspected that he was actually a bit peeved at Kurapika’s stubbornness. “Let’s move onto more immediate concerns. Like your bumbling friend here.” The Spider nudged Leorio’s side with his boot. “As you can see, he’s in rather poor shape. I do have an antidote, but I don’t plan on just handing it over to you.”

“But...” Kurapika swallowed. “I’m not your enemy,” he pointed out gamely. “I have no plans to turn you in to the authorities. In fact, I can’t.”

The Spider fixed him with a narrow stare. “I’m a villain,” he pointed out coldly. “I don’t save people unless there’s something in it for me.”

Kurapika’s heart sank to join Leorio on the floor. The Spider was one of those villains who relished his role. He wouldn’t break character to save a stranger—not like Kurapika had when Leorio had been caught up in one of his heists. Kurapika still remembered the feeling of his stomach dropping as Leorio disappeared out the window. He hadn’t thought twice about helping him. There hadn’t even been time to think about it. If Kurapika had hesitated, Leorio would be dead.

Almost losing Leorio was what had led to Kurapika attempting to reconnect with him as himself, the friend Leorio remembered from school, not Scarlet Chain. Unfortunately, that had, in turn, led to this moment.

“What do you want?” Kurapika repeated.

The Spider smiled. He reached into his pocket and held up a small vial. He tossed it into the air. Kurapika’s eyes fixed on it, following its path up and then back down as gravity returned it to the Spider’s palm. The Spider’s smile widened as he saw the desperate desire in Kurapika’s eyes.

After some more back-and-forth, with the Spider being cryptic and Kurapika’s desperation growing, the Spider finally elicited a promise from Kurapika to acquiesce to whatever the Spider asked of him. The Spider gave an unconscious Leorio the antidote and allowed Kurapika to return him to his car.

Kurapika left Leorio in the driver’s seat of his car and returned to the warehouse. The Spider waited for him with a smug smile.

Kurapika paused several meters away, wary and uncertain. “Now tell me what you want,” he said.

The Spider strode forward. Kurapika flinched, but refused to give ground as the Spider stood in front of him. Kurapika stared through the holes of his black half-mask into those grey eyes. The Spider didn’t know it, but the colour was similar to Kurapika’s own eyes, when he wasn’t dressed up as Scarlet Chain.

The Spider’s long fingers gripped Kurapika’s chin through the fabric of the cloth he used to cover the lower half of his face. The Spider’s nails were long, and possibly tipped with poison. Kurapika felt an icy fear crawl up his spine.

“When I want something, I take it,” the Spider said, his voice dark. “What I want tonight is you.”

Kurapika’s eyes widened. “What?” he asked, though he had a horrible feeling that he understood the villain’s meaning all too well.

“Don’t worry. You won’t even have to take off your mask. I don’t want to know who you are or what you look like. I just want to fuck you.”

Kurapika’s mind whirled, stunned by the Spider’s demand. He thought of Leorio, alone in the car. No doubt he’d be very confused when he woke up. Leorio had been the only person Kurapika had ever considered getting close to, but Kurapika had never truly been able to entirely let down his guard and share everything of himself. As evidenced by tonight’s events, it was clearly far too dangerous.

“Thinking of your friend?” the Spider asked, his smirk full of knowing. “Maybe I can help you forget about him.”

The Spider’s thumb lightly pressed into the skin just below Kurapika’s glowing right eye and he shivered.

Minutes later, Kurapika found himself with his back pressed against the Spider, his pants tossed carelessly onto the floor as the Spider’s grunts filled his ears. Kurapika’s moans were stifled by the fabric of his mask and the hand the Spider had pressed against it. Kurapika’s hands pressed into the wall in front of him, his blood-red eyes blank and rolling.

The slap of skin against skin was loud in the warehouse, a drumbeat with the Spider’s growls and moans as a melody. Kurapika couldn’t make a sound. His nails scrabbled at the wall, pleasure and pain mixing in a sweet, aching way that made him feel as if he were sliding down a steep slope, a slope that was getting steeper and steeper as he went.

Before Kurapika even realised it, he’d tumbled off the edge, his scream muffled by the Spider’s hand. The Spider’s movements grew faster, but Kurapika didn’t even notice as he was drowning in his own white bliss. The Spider reached his own end seconds later. Kurapika’s knees shook as he felt the unfamiliar sensation of wetness inside him. It felt... wrong, but right. Kurapika couldn’t describe the sensation, and hoped that he would never have to.

The Spider remained inside him for half a minute, humming as his cock softened within Kurapika’s warmth, his hand still clamped over Kurapika’s mouth.

“I get so sick of the screaming and crying,” the Spider murmured as he slid out of Kurapika. “Don’t you?”

Kurapika couldn’t answer, as the Spider had yet to release him, but he was glad of that. Kurapika had thought that he himself was screwed up, but the Spider was twisted in a way that Kurapika couldn’t ever understand.


	14. These Broken Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Public

Chrollo stared out at the crowd gathered in the large square from his position on the stage. Soldiers dressed entirely in black stood near the stage and at positions along the outer edges of the square. Though there were hundreds of people crammed into the space, the silence was ghostly. Above, casting a dark shadow over those below, Chrollo’s warship hovered, barely clearing the tall buildings of the alien city. Whirring silver drones floated above the crowd, catching and projecting the scene to those inhabitants not present in the square.

Chrollo felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach, a hunger that demanded satisfaction. The crowd stared back at him, pale and uncertain, not sure why they’d been corralled here, but knowing the reason wasn’t kind.

Chrollo imagined the outrage of the Galactic Council when they found out about what he’d accomplished here. This backward little world was supposed to be under quarantine, a no-go zone until the inhabitants developed their own long-distance space transport. The Council would bluster and shout at him, but there was nothing they could actually do about the situation. Chrollo’s empire was much too powerful and they would not risk its wrath. They would posture for a while, talk about things like reparation, but then they would ‘find’ other matters, seemingly more important matters, to take care of and the plight of this planet’s people would slip out of their minds and into the texts of history.

And Chrollo would be left to enjoy the bounty of a rich, fertile world teeming with a variety of wildlife, some of which would be slaughtered, packaged and marketed to the rest of the galaxy as rare delicacies. The planet’s primitive, scarlet-eyed natives would become citizens of the empire, subject to the harsh laws and taxes of the lowest caste.

Chrollo looked over the crowd searchingly. He didn’t speak this planet’s tongue, but he needed to instil fear in the populace. He needed to show them the power he wielded over them. He knew exactly how he was going to accomplish that.

Chrollo pointed at a member of the crowd, a boy near the front of the stage. His blond hair had caught Chrollo’s eye, as shining as the sun of Chrollo’s home world, which he rarely saw since his rise in status. Two of Chrollo’s soldiers moved forward, zeroing in on the startled boy with laser precision. They seized one arm each and lifted him off his feet. The boy let out a sharp cry of protest as he was brought, dangling from the soldier’s grips, to the stage before Chrollo. The soldiers let him drop to the ground, where he lost his footing and landed on his knees. Hastily, fearfully, he got to his feet and tried to scramble toward the edge of the stage, but one soldier’s gun slammed brutally into the back of his head. The boy crumpled, though he wasn’t knocked out by the blow.

Ripples of sound ran through the crowd, fear beginning to grow like strangling vines. Chrollo smiled as the boy turned terrified eyes up to him, the scarlet hue just beginning to take over the grey.

The boy’s thin, colourful clothes ripped off easily. Chrollo let them scatter carelessly over the stage, irreverent of their unique, hand-crafted quality. He was equally as irreverent of the body that had been hidden beneath them. The boy resisted at first, kicking, punching, biting and screaming. No one in the crowd dared to help him. The soldiers stood with guns poised, ready to shoot down anyone who tried.

Soon, the boy’s screams became broken as Chrollo mercilessly used him to satisfy his own hunger. Glowing red eyes begged the crowd for aid as his hands and knees scraped the stage’s surface, Chrollo’s strong hands gripping his hips and pulling him back into punishing thrusts.

Watching the boy’s spirit crumble to dust as he realised the helplessness of his situation filled Chrollo with satisfaction. When he saw the lost, dull looks in the eyes of those in the crowd as they realised their own helplessness, Chrollo found his release, holding the sweaty, shaking boy still while he came deep inside.

The boy’s fate was a premonition of what was to come for the planet as a whole, though those present would not yet entirely understand that. In the eyes of an empire that spanned entire galaxies, possessed the most powerful military in the universe, this world was nothing more than the boy was to Chrollo—just an inferior to rape and abuse.

With the boy having served his purpose adequately, Chrollo and his soldiers vanished in streams of light, returning to the dark warship looming like a foreboding storm cloud in the air above, leaving the boy stained and hollow on the stage. Chrollo’s next step would be to make contact with the leaders of this society and convey to them their new status as officials of his empire.


	15. Star-Crossed Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Cross-dressing

Chrollo stared in disbelief at the undeniably vibrant red string that stretched from his pinky finger to another’s. Likewise, the other person eyed it with undisguised disgust before that expression was transferred to Chrollo.

“How old are you?” the other person demanded, rather rudely, in Chrollo’s opinion. She was pretty—Chrollo couldn’t deny that. Her blonde hair was cropped to just above her shoulders and, despite her antagonistic expression and stance, she reminded Chrollo of a sleek cat arching and hissing at a sleight.

It was a real pity that girls weren’t his type. How could the gods have got it so wrong?

“I’m 22,” Chrollo said stiffly. “How old are you?”

The blonde scowled. “Seventeen,” was the response.

The legal age of consent in this country was sixteen, so that wasn’t a problem. Still, Chrollo felt irked that the blonde had thought to ask about age first. They hadn’t even exchanged names yet.

Not that Chrollo was particularly eager to get to know the blonde. He wanted to lodge a formal complaint instead, but the idea was laughable. No one could complain to gods who never deigned to show their meddling forms to mere mortals.

The blonde stared at him, lip still curled in disgust. She wore a very neat blouse and skirt, the sort of clothes Chrollo would have expected a receptionist or secretary to wear. Seventeen was a little young to have a job, but maybe she was an intern. This neighbourhood boasted many up-and-coming companies, some of which looked to have very bright futures. That was actually why Chrollo was there. He was looking to infiltrate one such company via the route of gaining employment there. He’d certainly never imagined running into his soulmate while entering the preliminary phase of an ambitious heist.

The blonde’s eyes dropped to stare at the red string again. Chrollo’s hand remained poised where he’d lifted it to more closely observe the string. The blonde’s expression turned uncertain and wary as her grey eyes moved back to Chrollo’s.

“Who are you, anyway?” she asked, with the air of someone asking more out of obligation than any real desire to know. Chrollo wondered if she found this unexpected meeting as inconvenient as he did. Her enthusiasm was as lacking as his own.

Rude little kitten. Chrollo answered, “Chrollo Lucilfer.” He did his best to shake off his disappointment with the match. It wasn’t as if he had to remain entirely faithful to her, anyway. He could marry her, but still see men on the side... “And you, miss?”

The blonde’s reaction to the question was nothing like Chrollo had expected. She moved so fast that Chrollo’s eyes couldn’t even track the movement. He felt a staggering pain hit his cheek. Stunned, he dropped to the sidewalk, struggling to make sense of what had happened.

The blonde stood over him, glaring down at him with eyes like steel daggers. “I’m not a girl,” she informed him coldly.

Chrollo didn’t know whether to laugh, or argue the point. She—no, he, apparently—was wearing feminine clothes (a skirt, for gods sake!). What was Chrollo supposed to think?

He had a pretty solid punch for someone so little.

Under the piercing stare of those eyes, all Chrollo could do was mutter, “Thank the gods. I’m not even attracted to women.”

Chrollo learned quite quickly, after a rather unrepentant blond had helped him to his feet, that his soulmate’s name was Kurapika. Kurapika was, under that blouse and skirt, most definitely male. Chrollo’s faith in the divine judgement of the gods was restored.

Still, Chrollo did not approve of Kurapika’s habit of dressing like a woman, and told him as much. Kurapika’s response had been less than polite. In fact, it was a very uncompromising “Fuck off.” Realising that the issue was non-negotiable in Kurapika’s mind, Chrollo let it drop.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Chrollo realised that Kurapika’s skirts and dresses actually had an upside. They afforded easy access to the most intimate parts of Kurapika’s anatomy, and Chrollo never missed a chance to take advantage.


	16. After A Fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Role Play

“I don’t see why you need me to wear it.”

Chrollo’s complaint fell on unsympathetic ears. Kurapika adjusted the sit of the shirt on Chrollo’s shoulders.

“I don’t normally mind being your clotheshorse, Kurapika, but this is a but much…”

Finally, Kurapika looked up to meet his eyes, frowning in that distracted, intense way he did when he was focused on his work.

“This job is unusual,” he agreed, “but that’s why I need your help. I need to see this on someone. I can’t really visualise it, otherwise.”

Kurapika stepped back, studying Chrollo’s appearance critically. Chrollo arched one eyebrow, put out by the whole experience. “What am I supposed to be, anyway?” he asked.

“A magician… I think,” Kurapika said. “The client never actually said, but he was very particular about the details.”

“A magician?” Chrollo turned to stare at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall of Kurapika’s studio. “I feel more like a clown,” he complained. “I think you’re missing the red nose, Kurapika.”

Kurapika’s lips quirked up. “I could fix that,” he said. He moved behind Chrollo, running his hands up Chrollo’s hips. Chrollo thought that he was doing something designer-y, like checking the fit of the garment, but when Kurapika’s hand strayed to his groin, Chrollo began to wonder if Kurapika had something else in mind.

“Kurapika,” he said, a mild note of reproach in his voice. “You’ll ruin the clothes.”

“It’s only a mock-up,” Kurapika murmured from behind him. “I just wanted to get an idea of what it would look like.”

A smirk spread across Chrollo’s face. Everyone knew that Kurapika was an excellent fashion designer, but only Chrollo, as his boyfriend, knew why Kurapika always took on the most eccentric projects. Costumes were his speciality and his fetish. The ideas Kurapika’s most unusual clients presented to him often served as inspiration for Kurapika and Chrollo’s bedroom activities.

Today looked like it would be no exception. Chrollo didn’t care what he had to dress up as, or how he had to act, as long as Kurapika was enjoying himself.

“Forget the red nose,” he said. “Let me show you a few magic tricks.”


	17. A Court of Wings and Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Begging

The delicate curve of Kurapika’s wing, as white as new snow, was fluffy and soft under Chrollo’s hand. His head was bent, his blond hair glowing with a heavenly light.

Chrollo’s own wings, feathers much smoother and sharper than the angel’s, arched behind him, seeming to absorb the light in the room. The rush of power he felt at the sight of the angel on his knees before him filled him with a heady joy. The best part was that Kurapika had done so willingly.

It hadn’t even taken much encouragement. Chrollo smirked as Kurapika’s wing shifted, feathers aching for more of Chrollo’s touch. Corrupting beings who were forbidden from exploring or satisfying earthly desires was child’s play. From the moment the demon’s lips had met the newborn angel’s, he’d had Kurapika practically eating out of his hand.

When Chrollo stopped caressing his wing, Kurapika raised his head, sweeping an adoring gaze up Chrollo’s naked body. His eyes settled greedily on Chrollo’s cock.

“Tell me what you want,” Chrollo purred, brushing blond bangs from a flushed face.

“I want… I want to taste you.” Kurapika licked his lips, charmingly embarrassed.

Chrollo adopted a fond, but slightly reproachful expression. “You can do better than that, my pretty bird,” he crooned.

“I…” Kurapika swallowed. “I want to… suck your cock.” His cheeks turned bright red at the admission, teeth gnawing at blasphemous lips. When Chrollo’s expression remained static, fingers playing gently in sunshine strands, Kurapika offered more, his voice small but eager. “Please… please, let me…”

It wasn’t much, Chrollo had to admit, but it was a good start. The selfish, impatient part of him that wanted instant gratification whispered that he should deny Kurapika until the angel used far dirtier words, words that were never meant to pass an angel’s lips. But Chrollo also knew that good things came to those who were patient. One day, Kurapika would beg him in the most profane, forbidden ways, but Chrollo would have to ease him into that. Kurapika’s long fall from grace into hell would be so much more beautiful that way.


	18. Working Up A Sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Breathplay

Kurapika sat on the bench, head lowered as he recovered from a gruelling workout session. Chrollo stood nearby, smiling at the exhausted young man. He’d pushed Kurapika further than he ever had that evening, and Kurapika had done better than Chrollo had anticipated. When Chrollo had first met him, he’d assumed that Kurapika was the delicate sort, someone who would give up within two days. Kurapika had proved to be surprisingly stubborn though, and Chrollo had to admit that he was impressed. He’d found a client he was sure he could sculpt into the perfect human specimen.

Kurapika was short and slight. After a few weeks of regular sessions with Chrollo at the gym, he’d gained some muscle, but he was still lean.

Kurapika looked up, brushing sweaty bangs from his face as he met Chrollo’s stare with a frown.

“Is that all for tonight?” he asked, his tone bland.

“Not quite,” Chrollo said, a secretive smile hiding his plans. “But you can go and shower.”

Kurapika gave a weary nod and stood. He headed for the locker room. He was so intent on his goal of not stinking like old socks that he didn’t notice that Chrollo was on his heels.

Kurapika’s session wouldn’t be over for a good twenty minutes yet and Chrollo intended to make good use of that twenty minutes by introducing Kurapika to a new kind of exercise.

The locker room, just like the gym, was empty. The gym was open 24/7, but few patrons came in the dead of night. Both Chrollo and Kurapika preferred the quiet atmosphere.

Kurapika showed little surprise when he realised that Chrollo had followed him into the locker room. Instead, he spared Chrollo only a brief glance before stripping off his shirt.

However, when Chrollo began to strip off his own clothes, Kurapika’s eyes widened.

“You don’t need to shower,” he pointed out. “You haven’t done any work.”

Chrollo chuckled at the peeved tone in Kurapika’s voice. His amusement turned to satisfaction when Kurapika’s interest sharpened at the sight of Chrollo’s naked torso. Chrollo let him stare, knowing that he had nothing to feel self-conscious about. How could he promote himself as an excellent personal trainer if he didn’t look the part?

When Kurapika’s stare lingered too long, Chrollo gently reminded him, “Shower.”

“Uh, right.” Kurapika turned away from him and made his way, entirely naked, to one of the shower stalls, separated from the rest of the locker room by a curtain. Chrollo followed on his heels after retrieving something from his bag.

Kurapika was already beneath the spray when Chrollo joined him, smelling sweetly of scented soap.

“What?” Kurapika asked, baffled. He looked about to kick up a fuss, but Chrollo spoke before he could.

“I told you that our session wasn’t done,” he reminded Kurapika, before showing him what he held, which was his leather belt.

“What?” Kurapika repeated, anger morphing into confusion.

Chrollo smiled fondly at him. “I think it’s time we worked on some breathing exercises.”

It took a few seconds for understanding to dawn in Kurapika’s eyes, and a burgeoning interest to take hold. Kurapika’s body was soon slick with water and weak with desire as Chrollo looped the belt around his neck and choked off his breath. While Kurapika gasped, Chrollo whispered praise and encouragement into his ear, his body rubbing up against Kurapika’s in such a way that left Kurapika unable to deny his dominance. In the brief moments Chrollo loosened his grip on the belt, allowing Kurapika to gasp in air, all the blond could do was hungrily moan for more.

Chrollo kissed Kurapika’s open lips as he tightened the belt again. Against Kurapika’s lips, he counted the seconds. One. Five. Eight. Kurapika’s eyes fixed on him, hair plastered to his face by the water. Thirteen. Fifteen. Chrollo eased up the pressure on Kurapika’s throat and claimed Kurapika’s mouth with his just as Kurapika gulped in air.

Kurapika was definitely going to be his finest sculpture, Chrollo decided. Perfect in every single way. Even while his lungs were begging for air, his eyes still held a stubborn fire that drew Chrollo in like a moth. Even as Chrollo tightened the belt again, leather pressing harshly into tender skin, his own hand aching with the effort, Chrollo had to wonder which of them was truly courting danger—would Chrollo’s desire to push the boundaries ruin Kurapika, or would Chrollo find himself burned alive by the fire in Kurapika’s eyes?


	19. Full Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Scent

Kurapika paused before the small florist at the corner of the street, his attention caught by the bright blooms on display. Was it new? Kurapika had never seen the store before, yet it didn’t look new. Kurapika glanced over at the shop next to it, a small Mum-and-Pop convenience store that he had stopped at a handful of times on his way home from work. He turned back to the florists, still puzzled.

Maybe he had seen the shop before, but just hadn’t given it any thought, Kurapika supposed. He did have a tendency to fall into a regular routine and ignore anything outside of that routine.

The sweet scent of the flowers invaded Kurapika’s nostrils and drew him closer. Kurapika took a long whiff of a red flower with wide, soft-looking petals. It was undoubtably real.

Kurapika found himself walking through the door of the shop before he’d even thought about going in. He felt a cold shiver travel along his spine as he entered. For the briefest of moments, a strong sense of anxiety gripped him, as if he’d just taken a step into a room that he really should have kept out of.

But the sensation was quickly washed away by the overpowering scent of the flora in the room. Kurapika’s eyes were so dazzled by the colours that he didn’t notice the shopkeeper’s presence until the man cleared his throat.

“Good evening,” the man said.

Kurapika, startled by the greeting, mumbled a response as he continued to stare at the array of flowers. So many colours and varieties... Kurapika had never been a flower sort of person, but even he couldn’t deny that these flowers had something...special. Something indefinable that set them apart from the ordinary. Maybe it was the fact that every bloom was perfect. Only fake flowers could have that perfection, yet the scent of the flowers indicated to Kurapika that, like the ones outside, these were genuine.

Chrollo smiled to himself as he watched the bewitched young man stare at his flowers in obvious awe. He was such a pretty young man, with a slim body and tidy blond hair. He wore a long coat over leggings. The coat flared out at his hips, giving it the look of a dress. Earrings dangled from his ears.

Chrollo licked his lips as the blond leaned over to look at a specimen that he was particularly proud of. The purple and white blossom was very fragrant—and very rare. In fact, it grew only in one garden, and Chrollo had stolen it. Thanks to that act, he now had a price on his head that equalled an average ten-year income, but Chrollo didn’t much care. It just made life more exciting.

After years of hard work, Chrollo now had half-a-dozen healthy plants of that kind in bloom and their scent permeated the air of the small room. It was so strong that it overpowered the scents of the other varieties.

This particular flower had a peculiar effect on some people, and Chrollo could see that this young man was susceptible to it. His light grey eyes were slowly misting over as he absorbed the potent scent.

Chrollo had lured another butterfly into his web.

Colours blurred and spun before Kurapika’s dazed eyes as he drowned in sensation. Everything felt amazing. The soft lips on his own, the press of a slick finger inside him...

Kurapika didn’t know what exactly was happening to him. It felt like a dream, one of the best he’d ever had. The finger had turned into two now, and Kurapika moaned in approval, tightening even as the fingers worked to loosen him.

Hot breath brushed Kurapika’s face. He should have been able to smell the musk of the man who was standing right in front of him, but all Kurapika could smell was that sweet, irresistible floral scent.

‘Is it a drug?’

The thought dissipated like blossoms stolen by the wind. Kurapika didn’t care anymore.

Chrollo’s powerful thrusts rocked the table into the wall, each thrust accompanied by both a soft thump and a moan. His butterfly was so gloriously tight and good. Chrollo breathed deeply between thrusts, noticing that the scent of the stolen flowers had become even more potent over the last few minutes, as if to further eradicate the self-control of the man bent over the table. Chrollo wondered if they were even affecting him at this point, though he had always thought himself immune to their spell.

On the opposite wall of the one that Kurapika faced as his body was being used by the shopkeeper, was a large floor-to-ceiling mirror, which made the small room look much larger than it actually was. The shopkeeper’s bare back was reflected in it, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he mindlessly chased the same pleasure that Kurapika was begging him for. Coloured in black ink between his shoulder blades was the large tattoo of an eight-legged spider. If Kurapika had seen that when he’d entered the shop, he might have had some inkling of the danger he was in, but Kurapika had not seen it. The tattoo was the symbol of a famous gang of thieves who stole whatever they fancied, no matter how difficult it was to obtain.

Kurapika had unknowingly wandered into the spider’s lair, and was now thoroughly wrapped up in the spider’s sweetly-scented web.


	20. Vigilante of Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Blindfold

The obnoxiously large headline on the front page of the newspaper was grim, but Chrollo thought it was the best news he’d read in a long time. One of his most irksome rivals had suffered a very untimely and messy death the evening before—the culprit was the masked vigilante, the Chain Assassin, the bane of corrupt and greedy businessmen and officials like Chrollo himself.

“Excuse me. Your coffee, sir.”

Chrollo lifted his grey eyes from the newspaper to greet his blond personal assistant with a generous smile.

“Good morning, Kurapika,” he said.

Kurapika gave a small start as he set the coffee down on Chrollo’s desk. He shifted his posture, adopting a bland expression as he waited for Chrollo to continue, no doubt assuming that Chrollo wouldn’t have wished him good morning unless he had some task to give him.

It was fiendishly hard to keep the smirk off his face. “You do good work, Kurapika,” he said. “I can always count on you.”

Kurapika’s eyes widened almost comically. “Uh, thank you, sir,” he said, while at the same time giving Chrollo a wary once-over. Possibly, he was looking for some sign that his boss was ill, but Chrollo returned his eyes to his newspaper, dismissing Kurapika silently. And Kurapika left, just as silently.

Kurapika probably assumed that Chrollo was offering praise for his work as his personal assistant, but Chrollo had actually been referring to something else entirely. Chrollo leaned back in his chair and sipped his steaming coffee as he savoured a very pleasant memory.

Kurapika was surprisingly muscular and flexible beneath his prim black suit. Chrollo had taken him in the most awkward positions he could engineer, and Kurapika had come every time. It was such a pity that he was robbed of the sight of Kurapika’s pretty grey eyes during their sexual encounters, but the blindfold was a necessity. If Kurapika ever found out that the person he was getting information from in exchange for sex was actually one of his targets—and his boss—Chrollo would find himself right at the top of the little bastard’s hit list. The time would come when Chrollo would have to reveal his identity, and get rid of the Chain Assassin once and for all, but Chrollo intended to make good use of the vigilante first.

He had a list of his own, a list of rival businessman who were impeding the rise of Chrollo’s company, and the idealistic and revenge-driven young vigilante was the perfect tool to take those rivals out.

Kurapika suppressed a shiver as he left his boss’s office. His boss’s eyes had seemed...a lot like a well-fed cat’s eyes, a cat who had just sighted a fat mouse but decided to give it a pass. And that smile...Chrollo rarely ever acknowledged his presence, let alone smiled at him. He must have been in an exceptionally good mood that morning.

Kurapika couldn’t say the same. He bypassed his desk, having errands outside of the office to run that day. Before he left the office, he made a stop at the rest room, fastidiously checking beneath his nails one last time, just in case he’d missed a spot of blood. Finding nothing, Kurapika let out a slow breath, his pale, anxious face reflected back in the mirror at him.

He had no reason to worry. The only person who knew his identity was his best informant. Kurapika trusted the man. His information had always been solid, though his identity was a mystery to Kurapika. The man always insisted that Kurapika wear a blindfold during their meetings at the cheap motel near the train station.

The man had known that Kurapika was the Chain Assassin right from the start—he’d addressed Kurapika by name in the first message he’d sent, while also making it clear that he knew about Kurapika’s illegal activities. Kurapika had, at first, thought that the man would blackmail him into paying for his silence, but it turned out that the man had something else in mind. He would give Kurapika intel on the corrupt activities of the city’s elite in return for sex. It was a simple, straight-forward transaction, one that Kurapika rarely questioned.

Kurapika didn’t really mind trading sex for information. To him, it was no big deal. He wasn’t in a relationship, so he wasn’t cheating on anyone, and the sex was amazing. The blindfold the informant had demanded that he wear had seemed a little kinky at first, but Kurapika found that he liked the mystery of it all. There was something exciting and stimulating about not knowing the identity of the man driving him to heights Kurapika had never experienced before.

And his information was always accurate. One day, Kurapika hoped that one of the flash drives he received would contain the evidence necessary to incriminate his boss, the charming and enigmatic Chrollo Lucilfer. Until that day, Kurapika would have to bide his time and continue to serve at his enemy’s beck and call.


	21. Case Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: Voyeurism

“Isn’t an infidelity case beneath us?”

Kurapika sat on the black sofa, his legs crossed. Leorio paced in front of the desk, too full of frustration to stay still.

“But she’s rich!” Leorio protested. “And it’s easy money, Kurapika!”

But Kurapika remained stubbornly and irritatingly unruffled, his expression serene. “The case is a waste of our time,” he said, and there was nothing Leorio could do to convince him otherwise.

With his mind still boiling with frustration, Leorio sat in a rented car outside of the client’s house, phone in hand. He’d decided to take the job anyway, Kurapika be damned. Once the money was in their bank account, Kurapika could bitch about it as much as he wanted to; it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference. The case would already be closed and arguing over something that couldn’t be undone was pointless.

The client, a poised and statuesque woman of wealth, had suspicions that her husband was cheating on her, and wanted proof. With the wife conveniently out of town for the weekend, Leorio hoped to catch the husband and his lover—if any such existed—in the act. It was 1 o’clock in the afternoon, and the husband had not long returned home—an odd time to finish work for the day.

When the black car pulled into the driveway, Leorio didn’t recognise it immediately, though he should have. As the blond driver stepped into view, a jolt of shock went through Leorio. It was, unmistakably, Kurapika.

It took Leorio an embarrassingly long time to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He sat, frozen, as Kurapika was let into the house by the black-haired husband, who appeared, from the brief glimpse Leorio had gotten, to be dressed only in a bathrobe.

No wonder Kurapika hadn’t wanted to take the case.

Leorio was still wrestling with his emotions when he got out of the car and approached the house. He slipped through the side gate, using the key that the wife had given him. Should he be furious with Kurapika? Mortified? What the hell was Kurapika doing?

Kurapika was, at that moment, wrapped around his lover, with his mouth locked on the other man’s. Leorio felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he peered through the window into the bedroom. The couple was far too caught up in each other to notice him.

Leorio held up his phone and began to film the proceedings, while still not sure what he was going to tell the client. Could he keep Kurapika’s identity out of it somehow—or simply lie and tell the client that he’d found no evidence of infidelity?

The wisest course of action might have been to leave as soon as things got heated, but Leorio couldn’t bring himself to budge. He told himself, as he saw the pale, slender form of his partner nude for the very first time, that it was because he couldn’t chance making a noise that the pair might overhear, but the rush of blood through his veins and the heat coiling in his groin was evidence of a very different motive.

By the time Leorio returned to the car, his legs felt stiff and grass had stuck to his trousers. He’d heard Kurapika make sounds he’d never thought could come out of Kurapika’s mouth, watched him arch beautifully for his handsome lover, and Leorio silently cursed himself for enjoying the spectacle.

When Leorio showed Kurapika the evidence of his affair, Kurapika didn’t even have the decency to blush. Instead, he pressed his lips together and turned his face away from Leorio.

“What the hell are you doing, Kurapika?” Leorio demanded. He wanted to shake the slim man, but he kept his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Kurapika glared up at him, grey eyes as fierce as a lion’s. “It’s none of your business,” he retorted.

“What am I supposed to tell the wife?”

Infuriatingly, Kurapika merely shrugged in response. Leorio glimpsed a hickey marring his neck, briefly exposed from beneath his white collar.

Lost for words in the face of Kurapika’s unrepentant attitude and unwillingness to help him deal with the situation, Leorio left the office in a huff.

Kurapika remained on the sofa, watching the door slam behind his partner with a small frown on his pretty face. How much had Leorio seen? Too much, probably. Leorio wasn’t the sort to leave something half-done. When he was all in, he was definitely all in.

Kurapika thought that it would be entertaining to tell his lover about the incident. Chrollo would no doubt find it amusing. Since he already knew that his wife suspected something, the news that a private eye had been spying on him wouldn’t come as a shock.

As for Leorio, Kurapika was confident that Leorio wouldn’t tell the wife what he’d learned. Leorio would be furious with him for a good while, but he would never sell Kurapika out.

Kurapika shifted his backside further into the softness of the sofa, making himself more comfortable as the silence of the office filled his ears. What could have been a potentially sticky situation had actually worked out fine.


	22. Petals of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: Mouth Fetish

Chrollo was roused from a light sleep by the now-familiar sound of Kurapika’s uncontrollable coughing. He slid out from beneath the covers to grab a few tissues. Kurapika’s thin body jerked with every wet cough that left his mouth. Chrollo helped him roll onto his side and held the tissues to his lips. When Kurapika’s coughs subsided, Chrollo drew the bloodstained wad of tissues away and threw them into the bucket on the floor. The bottom of the bucket was covered with more tissues and torn, bloody flower petals.

Kurapika blinked dazedly up at Chrollo, damp, misty eyes struggling to take in the details of his face. Chrollo kissed him gently after fixing the covers over him, tasting the fresh blood on Kurapika’s lips.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he murmured.

Kurapika’s breath whispered out in a barely-audible sigh of resignation as his eyelids slid closed.

Chrollo knew that he wasn’t the person Kurapika wanted to be with during the last days of his life. It was something that Chrollo had come to accept, just as Kurapika had come to accept that the person he wanted to be with didn’t want him—that was why they were in this situation to begin with.

If only Kurapika had been able to let go of his love for his childhood friend and accept Chrollo’s love instead—they could have lived a long and happy life together. But one could not simply decide to stop loving someone. That was another unpleasant life lesson that both Chrollo and Kurapika had learned the hard way.

Chrollo wiped around Kurapika’s pale lips gently with a wet cloth. When he noticed the edge of a fresh flower petal peeking out from the corner, he pulled it free. It was a pale pink colour, the same as Kurapika’s lips, and just as soft. Chrollo let it fall from his fingers into the bucket.

Beside the bowl of water on the bedside table, Kurapika’s phone lit up with a new message, though there was no audible alert—Chrollo had switched on the silent mode after it became apparent that Kurapika no longer had the strength to even reach for the phone anymore. Chrollo didn’t bother looking at the message. It would be from Kurapika’s friend, the same one who hadn’t given a damn about him until Kurapika had stopped answering his calls.

It was too late now. Even if the friend had a change of heart, Chrollo had no intention of letting him intrude on his and Kurapika’s time together. Losing Kurapika to death was preferable to losing Kurapika to someone else. Kurapika’s last days should be with someone who had always loved him devotedly, even if Kurapika could never love Chrollo in return.


	23. The Art of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: Body Worship

Kurapika had done his best to make his little bookstore welcoming. He’d set aside some space near the back of the store for the use of customers who wanted a break from their busy lives. He saw no reason why people shouldn’t be able to pluck a book from a shelf and read it for a little while. The decision seemed to be paying dividends, as Kurapika got a lot of repeat business, especially from university students looking for a quiet place to study.

What Kurapika hadn’t expected was that the space would also draw in those who showed no interest in reading.

Kurapika wondered how he could manage to sneak a look at the sketchbook on the table in front of the black-haired artist without seeming obvious about it. He was very curious, as the artist appeared to be very focused on the drawing in progress.

The artist stopped by almost every evening, about a half an hour before closing. Kurapika technically should have chased him out with the other customers about ten minutes ago, but, as the man had shown no sign that he’d realised the shop was about to close, Kurapika had held off disturbing him.

Maybe he could just walk past and glance down, Kurapika supposed. That wouldn’t be odd, right? The man was so absorbed in his careful sketching that he probably wouldn’t even notice.

Kurapika didn’t immediately head over to the man’s table. Instead, he busied himself with picking up a few novels that had been left in the area by customers who hadn’t bothered to re-shelf them. He had a half-dozen in his arms when he eventually passed the man’s table. He froze in shock as he caught sight of the sketchbook.

At first, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Maybe the person in the drawing wasn’t him, but a closer look made it clear that he was looking at a sketch of himself. Himself with...rather fewer clothes than he currently had on.

Kurapika felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. Should he be furious? Offended?

...Flattered?

He didn’t have abs like that, Kurapika was sure. The man in the drawing had the body of a model, with perfect proportions and no blemishes or imperfections. That certainly wasn’t Kurapika. Yet, the face in the drawing was a faithful recreation that was almost identical to Kurapika’s own. Alarmingly identical. The artist must have been studying him for quite some time to be able to recreate his features so accurately, yet Kurapika had never realised that he was being watched so closely.

As Kurapika continued to stare, he noticed the very careful way the man was etching in each line onto the paper. It was slow and deliberate, as if the artist were taking extra care to make sure that every line was just right.

Kurapika swallowed. “Um,” he began, entirely unsure about what to say, yet knowing that something needed to be said. He couldn’t simply pretend he hadn’t noticed anything. His embarrassment upon facing the man would give him away instantly. Since Kurapika always wished his customers a good bye or good night when they left, he couldn’t avoid doing so with this customer without looking suspicious.

The artist looked up, his face showing no sign of surprise. That, Kurapika found odd. Wasn’t he embarrassed to be caught drawing something so...scandalous?

But maybe artists were desensitised to that sort of thing, Kurapika guessed. Or, at least, this one was.

He was a very handsome man. His black hair was swept back and his features had a classic beauty to them that appealed to Kurapika. He looked a little too old to be a university student, though Kurapika supposed that age wasn’t a good metric to judge such things on. Older people could attend university as well.

The artist took in Kurapika’s expression, then glanced back down at the almost-complete sketch on the page.

“I was hoping to finish this one,” he said, “but I suppose I should get out of your way...” He began to close the sketch book.

“Um, no, it’s okay. I’ve, uh...” Kurapika coughed awkwardly. “...Got a few things to finish up with, anyway. You can stay a little longer.” He wondered if his cheeks were still red. They certainly felt hot.

The man stared at Kurapika intensely. A tiny smile showed on his lips. “That’s very kind of you,” he said. “If you really don’t mind...” He opened the sketchbook again. Instead of falling open to the sketch the artist had been working on, it revealed an older sketch—this one also of Kurapika. Like the one the artist had begun that day, the subject was unclothed. Once again showing no sign of embarrassment, the man flipped through the pages until he reached the newest addition.

Kurapika couldn’t resist asking. “Are those...all of me?” he asked. Why the hell would someone waste their time drawing _him_? What could the artist possibly gain from drawing the same subject over and over again?

The artist glanced up at him, pencil in hand. “Not all,” he said. “But most.” Another small smile appeared on his lips. “Do you mind?” he asked.

“Not really,” Kurapika admitted, though he certainly hoped none of his other customers had seen the sketches. “But I don’t really understand what you find so fascinating about me.”

“Don’t you?” The man’s smile widened, and Kurapika looked away. Then, one of the books he was holding slid from his arms—maybe not quite accidentally. Kurapika bent to pick it up, losing two more in the process—that had definitely been an accident. More embarrassed than ever, Kurapika hurried to gather the books up and put them away as the man returned to his sketch, amusement dancing in his eyes, the same eyes that often shifted from the page to watch Kurapika go about his work, studying the lines of the young shopkeeper’s body beneath the neat button-up shirt and pressed slacks that Kurapika always wore. The artist secretly hoped that one day, he’d have the opportunity to sketch the real form, not the one that lived in his imagination.


	24. Roommates With Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Humiliation

Kurapika does his best to keep his face neutral as he feels his roommate’s stare rake over his exposed skin. He doesn’t want the older student to see how much he is affected.

Unfortunately, his roommate is having a much easier time with that than Kurapika is. Chrollo’s expression is so unaffected that it borders on disdainful, and Kurapika feels his hackles rise in response.

“You’re not a girl, I suppose,” Chrollo says, his voice darkly wry, “but you might as well be.”

Kurapika’s cheeks burn at the insulting implication of that statement, and he bites his lip so hard that his teeth almost break through the softness. Don’t react, don’t react, Kurapika reminds himself stubbornly. He knows that it’s what Chrollo wants. His sadistic roommate wants to see Kurapika rise to his bait and lose his temper, but Kurapika is determined to win the battle of wills—even if he has to put up with being belittled and humiliated.

Chrollo turns away from Kurapika, and Kurapika allows his annoyance to show through the scowl he directs at Chrollo’s very nice naked back. All he really wants is to be fucked by his very handsome, older roommate. He doesn’t see why all these games are necessary, but they are important to Chrollo, for some reason.

Kurapika has had several roommates during his time living at the dorms of the university he attends. He feels that he isn’t a difficult person to live with, but his previous roommates do not share his opinion. Chrollo is the latest—and the only one who has stayed.

Maybe Chrollo’s desire to humiliate him is because Chrollo is studying psychology, Kurapika supposes. Chrollo might see their relationship as an interesting experiment. It doesn’t seem too far-fetched an idea to Kurapika.

Kurapika quickly turns his scowl into a thin line as Chrollo turns around, holding something in his hands. The smile on his face makes Kurapika feel apprehensive.

“Put this on,” Chrollo says. “I bought it especially for you.” He throws the garment at Kurapika, who catches it. He examines the garment, a furrow forming between his brows.

It’s a pair of feminine pink panties and Kurapika wants to object based on the colour alone. But Chrollo is watching him with a smile that Kurapika is all too familiar with, the one that makes his blood boil, the one that makes him determined to not break.

Kurapika puts on the panties. Chrollo’s expression finally shifts to one that holds no disgust, only lust, and Kurapika’s patience is rewarded.


	25. Maid of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: Collars

Kurapika wrinkled his nose as he dumped his new boss’s laundry into the washing machine. Ever since his family’s massacre, he’d often thought about getting revenge on those responsible, but…doing the monster’s laundry had never been a part of those fantasies.

Nor had being dressed up like a maid—because of course the only job available in the murderer’s household was a maid. The black-and-white uniform was flattering, even on Kurapika’s straight figure, according to his friend Leorio, but Kurapika felt like he was wearing a Halloween costume.

“Kurapika!”

Kurapika froze at the unwelcome voice emanating from the open study door. He pushed down his frustration and plastered a pleasant expression on his face before turning on his heel and entering the study. He stood before the large desk, hands clasped behind his back.

“Sir?” he asked, addressing the black-haired, well-dressed man behind the desk, mobile phone to his ear as he used his free hand to tap the laptop keys.

Chrollo Lucilfer, the man Kurapika hated more than any other in the entire world, smiled as he swept his eyes over Kurapika’s form. Kurapika felt his fingers twitch as the urge to pull on the leather collar around his neck became almost impossible to resist. It was a nervous tic that he hadn’t yet been able to get under control.

“I’m having company over tonight,” Lucilfer informed him. “You’ll be working late.” His eyes lingered on the collar hugging Kurapika’s neck.

Kurapika did not want to work late. He wanted to go back to his apartment, wash away the dirty feeling left behind by Lucilfer’s stare, and spend a good hour on the phone with his friends, venting his frustration to sympathetic ears. But there was only one answer that was appropriate in this situation—only one answer that wouldn’t get him fired on the spot, that wouldn’t ruin his chances of getting revenge.

“Yes, sir,” Kurapika said, while doing his best to look as if he actually didn’t mind working late.

As soon as he left the study, Kurapika indulged the urge to scratch beneath the collar. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to wear it long enough to get used to it.


	26. The Tutor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26: Spanking

“Stop squirming. You agreed to this, remember?”

The younger student twists around to glare at Chrollo, his cheeks glowing with embarrassment. He’s currently in a rather unfamiliar and uncomfortable position, face-down over Chrollo’s lap. His clothes are piled in a shaft of afternoon sunlight on the bedroom floor at Chrollo’s feet.

“Sort of, but…”

Chrollo pats his backside and Kurapika gives a sharp flinch, causing Chrollo to smile wickedly above him.

“You didn’t think you’d actually get any questions wrong, did you?” Chrollo guesses. Kurapika turns his face into the covers of his bed, and that’s answer enough for Chrollo. The younger student has a prideful streak that makes it difficult to effectively tutor him, but Chrollo thinks he has the perfect solution—one that he’ll certainly enjoy, even if Kurapika won’t.

“Ready?” Chrollo asks.

Kurapika mutters something inaudible to Chrollo, who suspects that he’s just been insulted, but he lets it pass. Kurapika is allowed to be frustrated, but he only has himself to blame for his current situation.

“Kurapika,” Chrollo prods.

The only answer Kurapika provides is a nod, but that’s good enough for Chrollo. He brings his palm down on Kurapika’s backside with enough force to cause Kurapika to yelp. Chrollo smirks as Kurapika curses, then grabs his pillow and buries his face in it. Chrollo brings his hand down again, a little harder, though he’s careful to avoid the area still stinging from the first impact. Kurapika shifts in place, struggling to control the urge to escape. Though he knows that he’s in no true danger, the urge is instinctual. Putting oneself in such a vulnerable and exposed position isn’t easy, and Chrollo has to admire Kurapika’s resolve, but that won’t stop him from needling Kurapika a little.

“How many questions did you get wrong again?” Chrollo taunts, giving Kurapika a short moment to relax while savouring the marks forming from the impact of his hand on Kurapika’s light skin.

This time, the insult is audible. “Asshole,” Kurapika grumbles, his voice slightly hoarse. Kurapika definitely isn’t showing his tutor the level of respect Chrollo feels he deserves, but that’s nothing new.

Chrollo decides that Kurapika deserves a few extra, mostly because he just wants to. After all, if Kurapika doesn’t want to be spanked, he should just get the answers right in the first place. Maybe next time he’ll actually study like he’s supposed to, and they can avoid this entirely.

But, if Kurapika remains obstinate and refuses to learn, well, Chrollo certainly isn’t averse to a repeat of today’s session.


	27. The Dark Fey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27: Orgy

The new dancer was summer incarnate. He was young, with hair that shone like the sun. His feet were delicate and his steps light across the stone floor. His eyes were clouded over with dreams, fuelled by the lively music being played by the nimble-fingered fey around the room.

Chrollo relaxed on his throne and watched the new boy spin and weave around the other dancers; they were like colourful, twirling ribbons. The boy’s energy seemed to seep into those around him, bringing a fresh flush to their cheeks and new vigour to their steps. It was always that way when a new child was introduced to the never-ending dance. When the boy’s steps began to falter and his energy wane like the moon, Chrollo would have to venture into the mortal realm to find a new child.

In the meantime, he could bask in the sight of life and light that couldn’t be found in the eternal dark of his homeland. Even though his brethren were immortal and everlasting, they were grey-skinned, sallow creatures, starving for any touch of sunlight and life. Their eyes greedily drank in the image before them, while their bodies absorbed the energy those young lives exuded.

Chrollo watched as one fey dragged a child from the fringe of the group and disappeared into the shadows. He smiled to himself as his eyes returned to the blond boy and the dance continued, undisturbed.

None of his brethren would dare touch the new boy yet, not until after their prince had taken his fill. It was an unwritten but absolute rule that Chrollo got the new ones first, while they still had the warm kiss of sunshine on their skin. Once he was satisfied, the others could do what they liked with the boy.


	28. Music of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: Hand fetish

Morning sunlight streamed through the large window, causing the blond hair of the young man sitting at the piano to glow like rich gold. Chrollo stood at his shoulder, watching with rapt attention as Kurapika’s fingers danced across the keys with the unconscious confidence and familiarity of a professional musician, playing a song that Chrollo had never heard before.

Their music styles couldn’t have been more different. Kurapika had been classically trained and was one of the most famous composers in the world, and Chrollo was the songwriter and vocalist of a very famous rock band. Chrollo had felt immediately drawn to the young man from the first time he’d sighted Kurapika at one of his concerts. He’d assumed that Kurapika was just another star-struck fan. Once he’d actually spoken to Kurapika, however, he’d learned that Kurapika was an artist as well.

In terms of musical creativity, Chrollo felt that they didn’t have much to discuss. Kurapika’s compositions were a little too subtle for Chrollo, while Kurapika found Chrollo’s lyrics intriguing, but wasn’t entirely sold on Chrollo’s instrumental taste.

What they did have in common was a mutual attraction and that was enough. Chrollo wasn’t sure what Kurapika found attractive about him, but he could say with certainty that he adored Kurapika’s hands. Even if he was indifferent to the piece that Kurapika was currently playing, the sight of Kurapika’s delicate, long fingers moving across the keys always aroused him.

Last night, Kurapika had shown Chrollo just how dexterous he was. It wasn’t just the piano that Kurapika could play so well. It seemed that while they could not meet eye to eye in regards to music, they were in complete alignment when it came to the most intimate of dances.

Kurapika’s fingers tripped off the keys as he turned his face toward Chrollo, having just realised that he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

He had, but Chrollo shook his head, answering in the negative. “I was already awake,” he said. Awake enough for the music to rouse him fully, anyway. “Good morning, Kurapika,” he added belatedly.

Kurapika returned the greeting with a somewhat dazed and uncertain smile, brushing his bangs from his face with those lithe fingers as he did so. Chrollo suspected that he was either not fully awake yet, still caught up in the music he’d been playing, or not quite able to wrap his head around the fact that a famous rock star was standing, shirtless, in his living room. Chrollo hoped it was the last option. He couldn’t quite believe that he was standing there either.


	29. Alpha and Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 29: Breeding

Kurapika couldn’t remember how he had gotten himself into his current situation. He couldn’t think of anything but the amazing sensations coursing through his body and the heavy, intoxicating scents lacing the air around him. He’d met alphas before; he could detect them by scent alone, and suspected that they could tell that he was an omega by his alone. But no alpha’s scent had ever been so overwhelming.

The alpha’s physical presence was as profuse as his scent. Kurapika knew that he’d have bruises when this was over, but he didn’t care at all. In fact, he never wanted this to be over.

He stared blankly up at the ceiling above him, not registering the sight at all as the alpha thrust forcefully and rhythmically into him. This wasn’t the first time they’d joined. Kurapika could distinctly remember being on his hands and knees, with the alpha behind him (had that been on the floor or the bed?) but Kurapika couldn’t recall at what point he’d been moved onto his back, the alpha holding his legs up.

A sticky mess covered Kurapika’s stomach and chest. His entire body coiled tight before he released again, drawing a pleased sound from the alpha above him. The alpha’s pace increased, and Kurapika anticipated the feeling of wetness deep inside him that soon followed. Kurapika closed his eyes and relaxed, boneless with a feeling of satisfaction that he knew wouldn’t last as long as he wanted it to. He felt the alpha’s hands slip from his legs and he let them drop to the mattress, spread wide. The alpha’s weight shifted and Kurapika made a small sound of discontent as the foreign appendage still knotted inside him moved slightly.

Kurapika felt lips brush his forehead, pushing at sweaty strands of hair. When they drew away, Kurapika struggled to open his eyes. His vision was blurred with exhaustion, but he was able to make out the features of a vaguely familiar face staring down at him.

It wasn’t until Kurapika saw the cross-shaped tattoo that alarm bells began to ring faintly. Far from the pleasure-addled mire of his conscious mind, a small part of him panicked.

He knew that he’d seen that tattoo before, but where?

The alpha eventually pulled out of Kurapika and moved off the bed. Kurapika closed his eyes, intending to go back to sleep despite the beginnings of a fresh wave of arousal growing inside him. He didn’t have the energy to pursue the alpha. Until the urge became irresistible, he’d take the opportunity to rest.

But, lurking behind Kurapika’s eyelids like a crocodile beneath the surface of a river was a memory, a memory of a face that Kurapika had once seen, a face that bore that very distinctive cross-shaped tattoo. The panic swept from the corner of Kurapika’s mind to engulf him like a tsunami.

The leader of the Phantom Troupe, the Spiders, Chrollo Lucilfer, had that same tattoo—and he was an alpha. Kurapika had realised that during his brief time in Chrollo’s company during the York New auction. Lucilfer had not bothered to even attempt to hide his nature. In fact, he’d seemed to find some sort of perverse amusement in trying to needle and dominate Kurapika, though Kurapika had easily resisted those attempts, finding them rather childish and pointless.

But now, thanks to his omegan biology and his inconvenient heat cycle robbing him of his self-control, Lucilfer was not so easily dismissed.

No, no, no.

Kurapika heard the sound of running water. Desperately, he tried to get off the bed and stand, but his legs were too shaky to hold him up. He crumpled to the floor, the carpet scraping across naked skin unpleasantly.

He tried to pull himself up, but couldn’t manage it—until hands kindly helped him back onto the bed. Kurapika stared up into a face that he now recognised as belonging to the leader of the Phantom Troupe, the man responsible for the senseless massacre of his entire clan.

How? How had this happened?

Lucilfer’s hand ran through the disordered strands of Kurapika’s hair gently. Arousal and rage warred discordantly inside Kurapika’s body. He wanted Lucilfer to touch him, but he also wanted to claw out Lucilfer’s eyes, to feel Lucilfer’s nails digging into his hips and marking up his back, to bathe in his enemy’s blood…

Dizziness drowned Kurapika. The strain of the conflicting emotions he was feeling was too much for him. Kurapika sank into despair as he realised that in his current state, there was nothing he could do. He was still feeling the effects of his heat and lacked the energy or the will to act rationally or decisively. He’d have to wait until his body had recovered and his mind had cleared.

Lucilfer left briefly, and Kurapika hoped that he was gone for good. Unfortunately, Lucilfer returned a moment later with a wet cloth in hand. He began to clean up the mess Kurapika had made of himself, smiling fondly as he did so. The expression was so far from what Kurapika would have expected from him that he had to ask.

“W-why?” Getting even that single word out was difficult. Kurapika felt as though Lucilfer’s scent would invade his mouth and his throat, choking him like a poisonous miasma. He wanted to spit the poison out in the vain hope that it would clear his mind, but his mouth was too dry.

“Why what?” Lucilfer’s smile remained on his face as he met Kurapika’s eyes. “Why are you here? Why are you not dead?”

Kurapika nodded weakly.

Lucilfer continued to rub the cloth over Kurapika’s bare abdomen. Kurapika was uncomfortably aware that his burgeoning arousal was beginning to show, but he tried to force that out of his mind.

“Killing you would have been a wasted opportunity,” Lucilfer said. “You’re the last of your kind, the last with those pretty eyes. Yes, those ones.”

Lucilfer traced a finger admiringly around Kurapika’s left eye and Kurapika shuddered, half in revulsion and half in arousal.

“I could have just killed you like the others wanted me to but, as I’m sure you’re aware, I value the whole of the Spider over its individual parts. I will not waste a valuable resource for the sake of petty revenge.”

“Resource?” Kurapika croaked out. The alarm bells were back, so loud that they actually managed to drown out his arousal.

Lucilfer kissed his forehead again, the fondness of the gesture offset by the patronising tone in Lucilfer’s voice.

“Our children will have such pretty scarlet eyes,” he said.

It was quite typical of an alpha to mostly disregard the wishes of an omega they fancied, to believe that their actions were in the omega’s best interest, while they were actually only serving their own interests. Kurapika had encountered such alphas in the past, but his wits and stubbornness had almost always been enough to get him out of sticky situations. When those had failed him, his Hunter’s licence had sufficed. But Lucilfer had taken that entitled, selfish alpha attitude to a whole new level, and it left Kurapika reeling. Never before had he ever felt so powerless and devalued.

Even the fact that he was in heat couldn’t stop Kurapika from trying to use his nen on Lucilfer. Lucilfer simply laughed off his weak attempt to summon his chains, knowing full well that Kurapika wasn’t in a fit state of mind to control his nen and execute any kind of attack effectively. That was probably why he’d waited until Kurapika exhibited a moment of such vulnerability before striking.

Kurapika was unwillingly bundled up in sheets before Lucilfer lay beside him, murmuring comfortingly to Kurapika. Too weak to resist or escape, Kurapika fell into a fitful and nightmare-laden sleep that he hoped he wouldn’t ever wake from.


	30. The Sleeping Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30: Sleep Kink

Chrollo had grown up on tales told about the ancient ruin rumoured to exist somewhere in the vast and dense forest to the north of his kingdom. Tales of a grave misfortune that had befallen the neighbouring kingdom after they had unwittingly angered the gods. The gods had isolated and cursed the kingdom, putting it and its inhabitants under a spell of sleep which had lasted for more than a thousand years.

The rest of the world had moved on, but the kingdom still slept under the blanket of the curse, or so the tale told.

Chrollo had, like many others before him, been very curious about the lost kingdom. His father’s warnings (and guards) kept him from exercising that curiosity, but when he took his father’s place as king, no one had the power to stop him, and Chrollo set out alone on an expedition to find the kingdom.

With nothing but tales to guide him, Chrollo did eventually find what he sought, though it looked nothing like he’d expected. Rather than a pristine land untouched by time, Chrollo found that only a small part of the kingdom had actually survived the thousand years, and it was little more than the stone ruins of a castle.

With the reality washing the lustre of the tale away, Chrollo was very tempted to leave without bothering to take stock of what remnants remained. It seemed pointless—still, there might be some jewels or gold that had survived. Chrollo decided to explore a little, maybe he’d find a piece to take back to his intended bride.

It was in the highest room of the tallest tower, its walls having stayed strong due to the fact that their stone was sturdy, though vines clambered up the side as nature tried to reclaim the structure, that Chrollo found something very unexpected—something that brought back all the enchantment of his childhood dreams.

The room was even more opulent than Chrollo’s own—certainly worthy of royalty. Chrollo ignored the fine paintings, the foreign fabrics and glittering jewels, however. It was what—or, rather, who—lay on the bed in the middle of the room that caught his eye. Once Chrollo had spotted him, he couldn’t look away.

The young man was fully dressed in soft-looking robes of deep blue, a fine circlet of gold inlaid with rubies decorating his brow. His hair was long, so long that it draped over the side of the bed and touched the floor. Every strand was as golden as the ring on Chrollo’s finger.

The princely man was plainly fast asleep, his face serene and peaceful though Chrollo’s stare crawled admiringly over his form outlined beneath the robes.

Chrollo approached, footsteps silent on the thick carpet. His boots tracked mud across the room. He gazed down at the sleeping man, entranced.

How long had the man lay here, while his kingdom crumbled to dust around him? Why was he still here, when no one else had survived? And, most importantly, who was he? Clearly, he had to be someone of importance, royalty, at least.

Chrollo’s eyes lingered on the plush bow of his pink lips, licking his own unconsciously. A familiar and very pleasant warmth was blooming inside him, bringing with it a just as familiar frustration.

Fooling around with those of the same gender was not permitted. Chrollo had had that lesson beaten into him many times by his father whenever Chrollo had shown a little too much interest in another male. It was even more taboo for someone of royal blood, as Chrollo was expected to marry a princess and father an heir.

But the young man on the bed was so beautiful. The silence pressing heavily on the scene gave Chrollo courage. No one would ever know. This would be a secret that would never leave this room.

Chrollo set one knee on the bed, leaning over to press his fingers against the man’s lips. He felt the soft kiss of warm breath against the pads. Feeling more courageous, Chrollo poked at his cheek. The man did not stir, remaining firmly under the spell that had trapped him here for a thousand years.

Chrollo smiled as he ran his fingers through the blond strands, marvelling at how they had somehow remained tangle-free, despite the unfathomable length of his slumber. The feeling of wonder and enchantment he’d experienced as a child, the anticipation of finding something magical and untouched, something that would only be his, the same feeling that had enticed him to seek out this kingdom, had returned.


	31. The Clothes Make the Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 31: Mirror Sex

Kurapika had never bought a suit before, but he didn’t think it was normal for the sales assistant to be quite so attentive and helpful.

“Will you be taking a date to the wedding, sir?”

Kurapika resisted the urge to scowl at the black-haired sales assistant as he carried his current find to the changing rooms at the back of the store. The question was highly personal and struck a sensitive nerve.

“No,” Kurapika said stiffly.

The sales assistant, whose name tag read ‘Chrollo’, followed him like a besotted teenager. “I find that very hard to believe,” he said.

Kurapika turned, the suit draped over his arm, to stare incredulously at the man, who regarded him with mild amusement.

“Why do you say that?” Kurapika asked.

“Try that suit on first, please,” Chrollo said, his smile warming as he nodded to the fabric over Kurapika’s arm.

Kurapika turned and headed for the nearest changing room, pushing aside the curtain to enter the small space. It felt too small to contain his irritation with the puzzling man.

Kurapika put on the suit and studied himself in the mirror after fixing his tie. He frowned, uncertain. This was the third suit he’d tried and none of them seemed to fit right, in his opinion. Maybe that was because he was used to a very different style of dress?

Feeling that a second opinion was in order, Kurapika pushed aside the curtain and called out, “Excuse me?”

He got Chrollo’s attention immediately. The assistant must have been waiting for Kurapika. Grey eyes swept critically up and down Kurapika’s body before Kurapika could make any request of him.

“Uh, how does this look?” Kurapika inquired uncertainly when Chrollo’s eyes lingered a little too long around the area of his hips. “I think the jacket is a little too loose,” Kurapika admitted.

“It looks very nice,” Chrollo refuted. “Here, let me…”

Before Kurapika could object, he was gently pushed back into the changing room, the curtain draping behind Chrollo. Chrollo turned him to face the mirror and began to fuss with the jacket, adjusting it on Kurapika’s narrow shoulders.

“See? It looks perfect now,” Chrollo said.

Kurapika met his own eyes in the mirror, wide with surprise as Chrollo’s hands skated down his body to rest on his waist. Chrollo’s face was also visible to Kurapika in the mirror and there was a softness there that caused a small spark of hope to flicker to life inside Kurapika’s chest.

“You don’t like it?” Chrollo inquired, his voice holding a gentleness that hadn’t been there until that moment.

“That’s—that’s not it,” Kurapika managed to get out. “The suit is…fine.” In truth, Kurapika no longer particularly cared about the suit. It was the sales assistant who occupied his thoughts fully, so fully that other thoughts were squeezed out of his head like juice from a lime.

Behind him, Chrollo’s eyes glowed with a victorious gleam, as if he could read Kurapika’s thoughts and approved of them.

“The suit does look fine, in my humble opinion,” Chrollo said, “But I would very much like to see you out of it.”

Given the assistant’s behaviour up until this moment, Kurapika wasn’t entirely surprised by the rather forward proposition. He swallowed nervously, feeling the warmth of Chrollo’s hands seeping through the fabric of the suit and into his skin. It felt like sunshine. It had been far too long since Kurapika had bathed in that particular kind of sunlight, and he missed it sorely.

Up until recently, Kurapika had been mostly free to pursue his own romantic interests with little interference from his large, overbearing family, but now that his cousin, who was younger than Kurapika by three years, was getting married, Kurapika’s parents had come to the abrupt and unpleasant realisation that Kurapika himself was still unwed. And worse, he wasn’t even dating.

Kurapika’s determination to go date-less to the wedding was two parts rebellion against his family’s wishes, and one part that he actually didn’t know any girl he could ask. His family would have happily arranged a date for him, but Kurapika would choke on his earrings before he would ever go along with that.

Chrollo’s eyes narrowed as Kurapika let the silence stretch on just a little too long. Was it a good idea to risk incurring his family’s wrath so close to the wedding? Kurapika might have hated his family’s overbearing ways and outdated ideas, but he did love his cousin. Going single to the wedding would cause enough of a stir, but if anyone ever found out about this…

But who was going to find out? There was only one other person in the store, the clerk, who was behind the counter near the front of the store. If they were quiet, the clerk would not notice anything.

It would only happen once, Kurapika assured himself.

Chrollo’s hands slipped from Kurapika’s waist as he let out a little sigh of disappointment, clearly taking Kurapika’s silence as a refusal. Kurapika reached back and snagged his wrist. He met Chrollo’s eyes in the mirror.

“All right,” he agreed, a smile turning his lips up.

Chrollo’s eyes lit with an eager light, his own smile meeting and matching Kurapika’s. His hands returned to Kurapika’s body, sliding up to tug on the tie. Kurapika watched him untie the fabric, his heart rate beginning to quicken. It was the oddest experience to watch the handsome assistant watching him in turn through the mirror as the tie slid from the shirt collar.

Kurapika had a feeling that this encounter was going to be unlike any other he’d ever had before.


End file.
